


Hair of the Dog (That Bit You)

by Doodled93, XPerimental



Series: Modern Monster Hunting [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Jaskier POV, M/M, Modern Era, Overwhelmed Geralt, Potions, Sensory Overload, Sleepy Jaskier, but essentially a good excuse for snuggles and cuddles, information taken from the witcher gaming wiki, side effects of potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22782634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodled93/pseuds/Doodled93, https://archiveofourown.org/users/XPerimental/pseuds/XPerimental
Summary: Some days Geralt comes home when Jaskier is still asleep.Sometimes Geralt slips into bed the way he does now.---He doesn’t slip under the covers so much as crawl beneath them, his skin a sudden chill against his own... Geralts face not going to his neck, but pressing lower, under the covers, to Jaskiers chest.Cat, he thinks, muzzy. Probably mixed with something else.Geraskier week Day 3: Hurt/Comfort
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Modern Monster Hunting [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603327
Comments: 23
Kudos: 817





	Hair of the Dog (That Bit You)

**Author's Note:**

> We're back with more modern!AU!  
> Our next one is definitely going back to The Manager's pov, but we wanted to play a bit with Jaskiers pov for a bit.  
> And our last story was so cuddly... well. Have some more ;)  
> As ever if we have missed any tags please let us know! Thank you for your time

Some days Geralt comes home when Jaskier is still asleep—while going to sleep _alone_ isn’t his favourite thing, unexpectedly waking up in his Witchers arms is lovely.

Sometimes, however, Geralt slips into bed the way he does now.

He doesn’t slip under the covers so much as crawl beneath them, his skin a sudden chill against his own... Geralts face not going to his neck, but pressing lower, under the covers, to Jaskiers chest.

Jaskier feels muddled with sleep, eyes not quite willing to open even at the shockingly cold nose pressing to his breastbone, but wraps his arms around him anyway. Lets one arm curl underneath until Geralts cheek is rough and warming against his bicep, curls about Geralt with his arms until he’s just about hugging his head; makes a noise when Geralt burrows in closer, the muscles in his shoulders tense and hard in contrast to his rough palms sliding oh so gently over his belly, his ribs.

 _Cat_ , he thinks, muzzy. _Probably mixed with something else_.

It was usually Cat that made Geralt keep his head under the covers—even with his eyes the way they were, going from dark to light could be distracting, _overwhelming_ when Geralt used another potion to enhance it. Jaskier knew he especially disliked travelling through cities when he was like that, the blinking and flashing lights and colours a drain on his concentration. It didn’t mean he couldn’t do his Witcher work in a city, it simply meant he didn’t _like_ it.

The toxicity of the potions always made Geralt feel cold to the touch though apparently the Witcher didn’t physically _feel_ anything different... Although with enough of it one could almost compare it to some level of drunkenness.

And in this way Geralt could be an _affectionate_ drunk.

Jaskier managed to pry his eyes open enough to see... oh, right, no digital lock in the bedroom.

He tilted his head to see and tapped around on his watch until he hit the right spot, making it light up: 4:23AM.

So, awake in... three hours... Jaskier let his head flop back down, and buried his hands back under the covers. One hand migrated until he could curl his fingers through the hair at the back of Geralts head, scratching lightly with his nails when Geralt made a nice rumbly noise against him.

He could feel the rock-hard muscles in Geralts shoulders relax in increments, made his own grumbling noises when Geralt rubbed his face in his chest hair, stubble scratching. His sleep attire was... _well_ , he only rarely bothered to wear anything except briefs in the warmer months, and often went without when his space heater of a Wolf was home.

Jaskiers arms moved with him when Geralt heaved a great, Witcher worthy sigh. He adjusted to curl further around him, slinging one of his legs over his torso.

The Witcher hadn’t ever come out and said it in any full sentence, but Jaskier had been able to stitch together a dozen snippets of conversation to know that sometimes the Witcher needed to focus on... just the _one thing_. One thing to breathe in, one thing to feel, one thing to _taste_ —just the one, even if it was made up by a whole lot of other things.

Before they started their relationship, back when Jaskier knew he was being considered only just _barely_ not a nuisance, he’d wondered why Geralt would sometimes end a job pulling off on a highway.

Or, once they’d started living together, why when they were returning from the South, Geralt made a point to stop by the reservation area with the water fall—it had something awfully fond twist in his chest now to have Geralt press his face in _him_ , instead.

However fond he’s feeling, it’s also nearly 5 in the morning, and his eyes are getting heavier. Much as he likes being awake for these abrupt cuddle sessions, he’ll have to take what he can get in this case.

Before he fully drifts off Jaskier presses a kiss to Geralts hair and pulls their blankets further over his shoulders—at least until the potions wear off and Geralt runs hot again. He lets himself drift on warm thoughts, a tune already flitting through his mind to the steady breathing of Geralt. Sank into the feeling of stubble scratching his chest, a weight in his arms, a wide palm against his back...

With callused hands, I tasted the softness of the moon  
  
In the coldest winds, I discovered my soul's warmest fireplace  
  
In the roughness of his stubble, the tenderest love.

([EDIT BY @kickassfu](https://kickassfu.tumblr.com/post/190919748436/hello-to-you-too-geralt-murmured-accepting))

**Author's Note:**

> The poem at the end is from Sanober Khan's "A Thousand Flamingos"
> 
> As it's possible neither of us will be posting tomorrow (mmmaybe? Xperi might be able to), we both wanted to give a huge thanks to everyone who has been so nice to comment on our stories this Geraskier week 2020! We've been lucky that our schedules have been somewhat aligning so we can have so much written in time, and it's been a fun experience :D
> 
> Thank you for your time! And if anyone wants to see something in particular in this AU, we'd be happy to hear from you! @xperiwrites allows anon asks/prompts there if that's more your style... We're having a lot of fun with these characters :)  
> Xperimental: tumblr: @xperiwrites  
> Doodled93: tumblr @doodled93


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